Shitty Days, Orgasmic Nights
by lizzyatedeanspie
Summary: Dean knows just what you need to get rid of all that anger.


I've been pretty livid all day. Then Haley got mad at some shit. So I wrote a story about it. I'm hoping this helps with the writers block I'm suffering through with Seven Minutes.

Warnings: I feel like I should sort of give you a spoiler alert/warning about the sex that takes place at the end. It's a tiny bit rough kinda sorta... I don't want to upset anyone so I wanted to warn you.

Enjoy!

* * *

You have had _the shittiest_ day ever. On a scale of one to ten on The Shitty Scale, today broke it. The scale is broken and no day could be as shitty as today. That's at least one silver lining, though, you suppose. It started off crappy. You woke up after having some really awesome dreams – to a normal person – but to you, those dreams are just reminders of things you'll never have. Yay dreams… Not to mention you had to get up early for work just to get there and have problem after problem, and then right before you close the registers at the end of the night, you have to call store support because register one decides to be a complete and total dick bag and not shut down properly.

You're angry.

You're so far beyond angry at this point that you could probably knife a man and not think twice about it.

When you get home, you slam the door. It is partially an accident, but in your state, you honestly don't care if the damn thing comes off the hinges. However, the slamming of the door grabs the attention of one of your roommates. Dean Winchester pokes his head out of the kitchen. He takes one look at you and can tell you're pissed.

"Hey."

"What?"

He tosses his hands up in surrender. "What's wrong?" he asks warily, hoping it doesn't turn your wrath on him.

"Life. All of life. All of it."

"Bad day at work?"

"Bad day at life."

Dean looks you up and down. He knows just the remedy. "Go change."

"What?" you ask, slightly annoyed and confused.

"Go put on your bar clothes. We're going drinking."

"I'm tired, Dean," you tell him, not really wanting to be around anyone, not even your very attractive and overtly friendly roommate.

"Get one of those 5 Hour Energy things from Sam. Hurry up. We ain't got all night," he says before disappearing back into the kitchen.

Your plans for the night _had_ included alcohol. Maybe going out and relaxing might do the trick. Of course, your plans also included an entire bag of donuts and some chocolate milk, but you could always wait and do that later. You give in to his plans. It is always hard to tell Dean 'no' anyway.

You trudge upstairs and knock on Sam's door. He opens the door, smiling, but takes one look at your angry face and frowns. "You okay?"

You ignore him. "You've got any of those 5 Hour Energy things handy? I'm pissed and tired and Dean thinks taking me out drinking will cure the rage."

"Do you?"

"Alcohol is being imbibed regardless of my location."

Sam nodded. "I've got one," he tells you before walking over to his desk and pulling out a small red bottle. "You know, if you want to stay here and talk about it…" Sam offers. He's like the brother you never knew you wanted.

You smile at him and pat his shoulder. "Maybe tomorrow… after I recover from the hangover."

He chuckles as he watches you walk to your room. Once you're there, you walk straight to your closet. You find the sexist outfit you own and decide that is what you're going to wear tonight. You never know who's going to be at the bar. There might be some really hot, angry, drunk sex in your future, and you know better than to deny yourself hot, angry, drunk sex.

Once you're ready, you find Dean standing against the back of the couch in the living room texting on his phone. "Calling one of your hook ups?" you ask him. You know you're on your own tonight once you get to the bar.

Dean shakes his head. "Nope," he answers before pocketing his phone and looking up at you. He smirks softly, looking at you like you were the hottest thing he'd seen in days. "I'm all yours tonight," he said.

You're both happy and sad about that thought. Drinking with Dean is always fun, but Dean would keep any hot guy at bay which meant no hot, angry, drunk sex. You point your finger at him. "If you get in the way of me getting laid…" you warn.

Dean turns his smirk up to Annoyingly Cocky. "You're getting laid tonight," he tells you – rather matter-of-factly – before grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the house.

^O^

The bar is packed. This bodes well for your plans to take your anger out on some poor unsuspecting guy. Dean pushes you over to the bar. "Let's get this night started off right," he says as he motions to the pretty female bartender.

She comes right over. "What'll it be, darling?" she asks him in a slow southern drawl.

"Two whiskeys – no, four shots of whiskey and two beers," he tells her.

"Wait," you speak up. "I don't want a beer."

"What do you want?" he asks you.

"I want something stronger. Double rum and Coke, light on the Coke."

"Top shelf," he tells her before she nods and walks off.

"Top shelf? Well, aren't you the big spender tonight."

Dean smiles at you, giving you a wink before paying attention to the bartender. You scope out the rest of the bar, checking all the guys out, trying to figure out which one of them you want to bring home tonight, but before you can get a good look at who's all here, the bartender comes up with the shots.

"You wanna open a tab?" she asks him.

He quickly forks over his credit card and nods. "Yes, ma'am," he tells her with a sweet smile. She winks at him and goes to fix your drink.

"I can pay for my own drinks, Dean," you tell him, not wanting to put him out of what you know is going to be a lot of money.

He pushes two shots in front of you and shakes his head. "Tonight's on me, sweetheart," he tells you before grabbing one of the shot glasses and raising it in the air for a toast. "To not giving a fuck," he says, clinking his glass against yours.

You smile at him. "To not giving a fuck," you repeat before the both of you take your shot, followed immediately by the second one.

You both wince slightly, shaking your head as the whiskey burns down your throat. "Hell yeah," Dean says. "Gotta love that burn."

"Yeah," you tell him, trying to shake it off. The first couple of shots are always the worst. The bartender quickly leaves your mixed drink and Dean's beer before heading off to take care of the rest of the customers.

"Alright, the bar is your oyster," he tells you. "Pool? Dance floor? Stay here and get wasted?"

"More drinks, pool, and possibly dance floor. Depends on how the rum goes down."

Rum always left you one of two ways: really, really horny or pissed as hell. It is always a roulette. It didn't matter how you went in, you always came out with different results. Tonight, you are hoping for option A.

"More drinks!" he says, smacking the bar as he waves to the bartender again.

You laugh at him. Dean is determined to get you drunk. The bartender reappears and Dean tells her, "I need four more shots. Surprise us."

She smirks, looking between the two of you right fast before heading off in the direction she came. "Surprise us?" you question him.

Dean cups your face and looks at you seriously. "What did we just toast to?"

You laugh at him again, pushing him away. You know you are going to be so sick in the morning. After downing four more shots and getting drink refills, the two of you head over to the pool tables. You have to wait for Dean to play a guy in order to get the table, but once Dean wins, the table is yours for a few games. Dean lets you win the first and second game, but he kicks your ass on the third game. You don't care, though, because by this point, everything is a little fuzzy, you have a nice warm tingling running through your limbs, and you and Dean have been flirting pretty much the entire time.

That's when you hear your song come on. Dean looks at you. He knows you love to dance to this song because he loves to watch you dance to this song. He is only a fan of Def Leppard when you're drunk. You turn to him and smile. "You should come dance with me."

Dean shakes his head. "You are not getting me out on that dance floor."

You grab his hands and start walking backwards, pulling him with you. "Please?" you ask, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

Dean rolls his eyes and nods, letting you pull him out onto the dance floor. You pull him into the middle of the floor and turn around, putting your ass right on his dick. You move to the bass, swaying your ass against his crotch as he stands there not moving to the beat, but rather watching you do it. His hands find their way to your hips, his nose pushing its way into your hair. He breathes in deep through his nose, releasing a shaky breath from his lips. You smile. You're actually getting to Dean. You're pretty proud of yourself at this point.

And that's when you feel it. He's getting hard.

You bite your bottom lip, trying to contain the face breaking smile that you're feeling. You have to stay cool, stay calm. Just keep dancing. And you do, you continue to move to the beat, dropping down and slowly coming back up, pressing your ass against him before swaying to the music again. You feel his breath on your neck then his lips on your ear. He says your name softly, shakily. You are unraveling him at the seams.

Then the song changes and you step away from him, but he spins you around and pulls you back against him. Before he can say anything, you smile at him, tapping his nose and looking up into his lidded green eyes. "You got a mouse in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

He chuckles at you, his eyes flicking back and forth between your eyes and your lips before settling on your lips. "I am very happy to see you," he tells you. "You should let me take you home."

You nod your head. "Okay," you tell him, as if riding home with anyone else was an option.

"Go close out our tab. I'll meet you at the bar."

You agree and pull yourself away from him before heading over to the bar. You catch the female bartender's attention and tell her, "I need to close out Dean Winchester's tab."

The bartender smiles at you. She knows what you're about to go do and you can't help but smile back at her. "Sure thing, darling."

You wait for her to come back with the receipt and Dean's card, but before she does, you run into a slight problem.

"Hey!" someone hollers at you.

You turn around to find some blonde girl with her hands on her hips looking at you like you just pissed in her Cheerios. "Me?"

"Yeah _you_, bitch."

You can't help but look at her shocked. You don't know this girl from the next, but here she is in your face calling you a bitch. "I'm sorry? I don't know you. I think you're – "

"Don't you fucking play dumb with me. I saw you. I saw you with him."

"With who?!" you ask, starting to feel that anger that you had just gotten rid of.

"Brady! My goddamn boyfriend!" she tells you, getting in your face.

At this point you know full and well that this bitch is drunk and has no idea what she's talking about. This fact does not lessen your anger one bit. "I don't know any fucking Brady!" you tell her, getting right back in her face.

"Don't you fucking yell at me!" she says, raring back to hit you.

However, she's far more intoxicated than you are, and you hit her first. You knock her on her ass and proceed to mount her, grabbing her throat and pushing her into the dirty floor of the bar as you hit her in her face a few times. Before you realize it, you're being pulled off of her. "What the fuck did I miss?" Dean asks you as he puts himself between you and the girl.

"This bitch! She fucking came at me!"

"Who is she?"

"I don't fucking know!" you yell at him.

The bartender hollers at Dean, handing him his card. "Get her out of her!"

Dean snatches his card from the lady, removing himself from his spot between you and the girl. She's on her feet, ready to come at you again. You push past Dean, but he grabs you just in time, just as someone grabs the blonde girl. He spins you around and pushes you towards the door, trying his best not to smile proudly that you just kicked some girl's ass.

You jerk away from him. That dumb cunt totally ruined your night. You were about to go home and have nice, slow, probably humorous sex with Dean Winchester and now you just want to fucking kick something. However, your thoughts of violence are halted when you get to the Impala. Dean spins you around and pushes you against the passenger side door.

"You pissed?" he asks you like he's about to start a fight.

"Yeah, I'm fucking pissed!" you tell him, throwing your arms up like it was pretty obvious.

"About what?" he asks you as if you had no reason to be angry about anything.

You scoff and turn to get in the car. You don't have time for his stupid questions. You just want to go home. However, Dean spins you around again, pushing you back against the car.

"Fucking answer me!"

You push him. "I'm fucking pissed off because she ruined my goddamn mood! I was happy! I was horny! We were gonna go home and have some silly drunk sex but now I'm just fucking pissed!"

You turn to get in the car again, but he spins you around one last time, pushing you back against the car before cupping your face in his hands and kissing you. You try to push him away, but he grabs your hands and holds them behind your back. He looks down at you and smirks like a cocky son-of-a-bitch. "How about some hot, angry sex in the back of the Impala?"

You use your body to push him away, getting your hands free from his grasp. You lock eyes with him and back step to the backdoor. You open it up and grab Dean by his shirt, jerking him towards the door. "Get your ass in here," you demand as you get in first.

As Dean gets in and slams the door, you kick off your shoes. He pushes you down on your back forcefully before getting on top of you. Your legs wrap around him as he grinds into you, kissing you hard and angry. You pull him by the hair at the back of his head to stop the kissing and tug on his shirt. "Get out of your shirt."

"Maybe another time," he tells you. "I'm not going to waste time getting out of my clothes," he says before sitting back and unbuttoning your jeans. He grabs them and your panties and yanks them down. You hear a definite rip, but neither of you care. He gets one of your legs out of your pants and pushes your legs apart, roughly fingering you as he bites and sucks on your neck.

"You're so fucking wet," he groans, loving how ready you already are.

"Then fuck me, Winchester," you tell him, pushing him off of you so you can unfasten his jeans. You can tell he's already hard. "You still hard from dancing or did watching me beat the shit out of that girl do it for you?" you ask as you reach into his jeans to pull him out. You are most impressed with his size and super excited for what's to come.

"Both," he tells you before forcing you back onto your back and spreading your legs again. He wiggles his jeans and boxer briefs down a little more before slamming into you. You call out to God as he swears. He grabs your hands and pins them above your head as he fucks you hard into the backseat. Your moans echo off the windows as he growls softly every time he thrusts into you.

Suddenly, he pulls out of you, pulling you to sit up. "Turn over," he demands.

You do so, poking your ass out towards him, which he smacks hard, gripping it even harder. "You fucking want this?" he asks, angrily demanding an answer.

"I'm fucking waiting for it, Dean. When are you going to start fucking me like you mean it?" you taunt.

He presses your face into the seat, crashing back into you. He swears and falls over on top of you. You feel too good for him to really keep himself in check. He wants to come, but this isn't about him; it's about you. "There's not enough fucking room back here," he mumbles under his breath.

You have an idea. You reach back and push him away. "Get on your back," you tell him. He does so and you straddle him, leaning over him. "Now fuck me like you mean it," you tell him, smirking down at him.

Dean grips your hips hard enough to bruise as he fucks you. He pulls you down every time he thrusts up. He's going so fast and doing it so hard and it's just what you fucking needed. You grab his shirt, tossing your head back. You feel that beautiful warm tingle right above where his dick is hitting. Yes. This was exactly what you needed. Your breath catches in your throat as you finally come, falling forwards on top of him.

Dean wraps his arms around you, slowing his thrusts down as he kisses on your neck and jaw. You pull back and look down at him, smiling lazily. "Feel better?" he asks softly, pulling your head down to press your forehead against his.

"Yeah," you say softly. "So much better."

"Good," he tells you. "Now I'm going to do this my way," he says pulling you down to kiss you as he speeds up a little. He continues to kiss you as he fucks you slowly. He runs one hand up your back to bury in the back of your hair as he pulls you against him a little tighter with his other arm. He kisses you slowly, pouring himself into the kiss.

His fingers dig into your back and the grip he has on your hair tightens. He's close. The kissing stops as he can't concentrate on moving his lips as the pleasure builds. He growls as his thrusts become a little more erratic, a little harder and he finally comes. He swears, letting his head fall back against the seat. You lean down and press kisses to his neck, running your nose along the scruff on his jaw. "Feel better?" you ask him, smiling.

He chuckles softly. "Yeah," he says, mimicking your response. "So much better."

"Good."

* * *

It was pretty good for me, too. ;)

Thanks for reading!


End file.
